


The kinder thing to do. (A cover of someone else's song)

by pr_scatterbrain



Category: Angus and Julia Stone, Music RPF
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied Relationships, Sibling, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_scatterbrain/pseuds/pr_scatterbrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When are you ever honest?" Julia asks, more in jest than curious. </p><p>"When it suits me, I suppose," Angus tells her, and that, perhaps, is one of the more honest truths he's ever told her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The kinder thing to do. (A cover of someone else's song)

 

 

It's funny how things work out, Angus thinks. He thinks back to London when need and want made him impervious to the way he shivered from the cold and how he and Julia lived within arms reach of each other but how it never felt like that. The memory of it all feels indistinct now. He remembers her, the feel of floorboards in winter, the crackle of microphones in that pub they used to play at. Nothing more.   
  
Julia is busy, but she comes over in the evening with music and the left over of a hangover.  
  
Earlier he heard her on the radio promoting her album. They talk about that. But not about the cracks he heard her voice, or how her guitar was tuned a little too sharp.   
  
They were never all that close as children. Not that anyone buys into that. There has never been much polish to their narrative, but there is a narrative. Maybe not something their label created, but one that was implied in a more general way. Blood is blood. Songs have been written about less. Julia's written more than a few of them. So has he, if he is honest. For some things one never really grows out of.   
  
"When are you ever honest?" Julia asks, more in jest than curious.   
  
"When it suits me, I suppose."  
  
And that, perhaps, is one of the more honest truths.   
  
Like all things Julia does not ask for, she shoulders it. Smiles, and gathers their empty wine glasses.   
  
Love is a funny thing too.   
  
The cotton of her vintage dress is soft and worn thin in places. His eyes follow the seams, waist to hem, shoulder to cuff. Yes, love is a funny thing. Like running into an old friend in a foreign city. It pulls at him, catching him off guard at odd times. There is a difference between writing music and writing a narrative. That's the problem with him more than it is with her. Or for her.   
  
Before she leaves, she puts an album on. It's some indie band, a demo she picked up from the radio station slush pile. The lead singer sounds so young. Like a kid, maybe is a kid. They sound reedy and sweet, the whole band does. Almost like a choir.   
  
"Why are we listening to this?" he asks.   
  
She shrugs. "I thought you might like it."  
  
He does.   
  
(When she kisses him goodbye, he thinks she lingers for a moment, but he could be wrong). 

 

 

 


End file.
